Poem Review: High-Five Haikus — Part 1
I found another set of light poems. Deep, meaningful, and of course, long. Sometimes, a bit of fun doesn’t harm, right? What is more fun than getting high on haikus?
“Haiku sounds like I’m
Saying hi to someone named
Ku. Hi, Ku. Hello.”
― Ellen DeGeneres, Seriously… I’m Kidding
Haikus are the easiest and briefest way one can express with structure. It helps build all three — essence, wordplay, and structure. I have written occasional Haikus too. But in this review, we will explore 5 Haikus out of which two will be classic and three contemporary, from our Ponder Pantheon of poets.
The most famous Haiku, ‘the Old Pond’ by Matsuo Basho.is the one we start with.
Matsuo Bashō (松尾 芭蕉, 1644 — November 28, 1694);[2] born Matsuo Kinsaku (松尾 金作), later known as Matsuo Chūemon Munefusa (松尾 忠右衛門 宗房)[3] was the most famous Japanese poet of the Edo period. During his lifetime, Bashō was recognized for his works in the collaborative haikai no renga form; today, after centuries of commentary, he is recognized as the greatest haiku master (then called hokku). He is also well known for his travel essays beginning with Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton (1684), written after his journey west to Kyoto and Nara.[4] Matsuo Bashō’s poetry is internationally renowned, and, in Japan, many of his poems are reproduced on monuments and traditional sites.
My Haikus are inspired by Priya Patel who is a prolific contemporary English Haiku composer. But we go back to the original master ‘Mastuo Basho’ with his Haiku first-up.
Poem 1: The Old Pond (Classic Haiku)
The old pond
A frog leaps in.
Sound of the water
~Matsuo Bashu
Commentary on Poem 1:
The antiquity of the water body tells a lot. The ‘old’ pond has been around for a while as an age-old container of serenity and stillness — the container of cool, calm waters. Time does not make sense here. The absence of time is what we call an eternity. Antiquity defies the concept of time. One has to look for such a setting where eternal calm prevails. It is the solace that we all yearn for, a timeless peace.
In this antique container of solace, time intrudes through a simple event. A frog dives. One can draw a parallel with this event — a sensory disruption of a calm mind. The mind is deemed as a monkey (or in this case, a frog), and froggy thoughts can disrupt the ageless mind.
The frog’s leap is the creation of an event — a change that stamps the presence of time, the moment the disruption happens leaves a temporary print on the otherwise clean canvas of the timeless surface of the calm pond. This is when stillness is lost, calmness gives birth to rippling chaos, reverberating on the surface in wavy circles.
Apart from the visual effect, the sound of water — ‘splash’ — fills the empty, quiet space, spreading through the air, and reaching the ears of those endowed to listen. One is reminded and feels the pond’s presence. The visual and aural effects of the frog’s leap put ‘time’ in the overall scheme of things.
The juxtaposition of permanence with momentary disruption, and stillness with the chaotic moment is the essence of the haiku, and in a sense, reflects our lives.
“Among my stillness was a pounding heart.”
― Shannon A. Thompson, Seconds Before Sunrise
Is the frog’s leap a disruption or part of the overall harmony? What do you figure?
Before we go to the second Haiku, we must remember that the structures in Japanese versions of Haiku vary from 5–7–5 in English. We will introduce our second Haiku, and the poet Issa in the process.
Kobayashi Issa (小林 一茶, June 15, 1763 — January 5, 1828) was a Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest of the Jōdo Shinshū. He is known for his haiku poems and journals. He is better known as simply Issa (一茶), a pen name meaning Cup-of-tea(lit. “one [cup of] tea”). He is regarded as one of the four haiku masters in Japan, along with Bashō, Buson, and Shiki — “the Great Four.”
Issa is the second of the four Haiku Masters. Time, presence, awareness — all three come together in this most simple yet profound Haiku composed by Master Issa.
Poem 2: Presence in Snow (Classic Haiku)
“Here
I’m here-
the snow falling.”
― Kobayashi Issa
Commentary on Poem 2:
When we consider Basho’s Haiku, movement disrupts stillness, in other words, presence interrupts absence. Issa’s Haiku, on the other hand, inserts the stillness of human presence in the movement of nature, that is snowfall.
Many Haikus draw inspiration from the Japanese Seasons — Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Snow (Winter). The seasons are messengers of cyclical change, indicating that time is cyclical, yet linear — that is helical in shape. Haikus are moments in this spiraling journey in the temporal helix and represent awareness through their presence. Seasons play an important part in Japanese lives, and it is no wonder that Haikus capture the essence and
The awareness that we talked about — the spatial and temporal presence of the human conscience to understand the convergence with nature is the essence of this poem. ‘Here, I’m here’ is the declaration of this awareness. ‘am’ and ‘here’ indicate the temporal and spatial aspects of the poet’s presence.
The moment is the intersection of nature and time. Nature is the season — it is winter and snow. Time is the father of the season. The poet expresses his enthusiasm in a subtle, underlying way, for he loves his winters and snow. This restrained glee is representative of Japanese culture.
The fleeting nature of the moment is the snowfall, which prompts the reader to slow down and observe.
If the snowing season is the flavor of Issa’s pen, the next poem looks like a happening month itself — August.
Poem 3: August ( Contemporary Haiku)
Summer’s pivot point
we gather up last bright days,
reflect on the Spring.Collage of golden
memories, forever saved
in our mind’s scrapbook.~ Rachel Rodger
Commentary on Poem 3:
If Issa’s appreciation of winter is an inspiration, then the pair of Haikus from Rachael Rodger, showcase the transition between Summer and Autumn, while reminiscing the Spring that passed by. What a perfect transition for us from classic to contemporary Haiku!
Summer’s pivot point
we gather up last bright days,
reflect on the Spring.
Summer is the best part of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, especially in the temperate and polar regions of the globe. When one writes about a season, it is their local experience. (I loathe the hot, humid, and dusty summers as I live in Chennai, India.)
The summer mellows from its spritely bright days to the autumn warmth. As the fall approaches, one slows down and reminisces the brightest part of the year — the summer and the spring.
“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.”
― Yoko Ono
Spring is the season of birth and bloom — innocent, young things spring out of the womb of the earth and its beings, breathing into the fresh, clean air born out of the white, thawing winter. As the spring’s light green turns into summer’s dark greens — the mild warmth grows into glowing exuberance. The little ones now hop and jump, and the flowers brim in full bloom. The birds chirp in a strong, mature voice, as they feed their ever-hungry nestlings.
This year’s summer, however, is drawing to a close. The churn of the year is about to begin. What a spring and summer it has been, worthy of memories. So many things we could start, do, and get done. Our families had their moments too. Let us reminisce, as the year moves to its gold-and-red season.
The first line sets the backdrop moment for the Haiku — the last few days of summer; the second line reminds us to make good of the little time left; the third line looks to
The Haiku brings the ideas of impermanence, change, and reminiscence together, along with awareness and action, setting the tone for the next Haiku.
Collage of golden
memories, forever saved
in our mind’s scrapbook.
We can consider this a standalone Haiku, but let us tow the line as the poet, and see it in context, as the second one of the pair.
After all, our lives are made of years. Years are made of seasons — of them, summer, spring, and fall bring active growth and pivots. As we traverse life, we see the years and seasons behind, cobbling together in a collage of ‘golden memories’.
The poet points to the permanence of these memories of our children, relatives, friends, and strangers, people who came and went, events, successes and failures, and of course, the experience of joys and sorrows. The idea of the people and events gone by to stay alive — the resurrection of mortality — is to remember. People are immortal because they are remembered. The poet’s words ‘forever saved’ bring this immortality through remembrance.
Well, we remember them as ‘golden memories’, and that too is not exactly sorted, but as a ‘collage’, which we can randomly and whimsically invoke. All of them are deeply ingrained in our minds…like the year’s album or… the scrapbook.
The second poem of the pair brings together people, events, memories, mortality, and permanence in just seventeen words. That is the power of Haiku. Together the pair of Haikus cover transience (of seasons) and permanence( through remembrance).
When we talk about mortality, what about each day we live through? Yes, the days themselves are mortal. We move to now Poem 4.
Poem 4: Crimson and Blue (Contemporary Haiku)
Sky in crimson hues,
Passionately gulps the sun,
Blends with blue waters.© Shobhana Kumar 🖋
Commentary on Poem 4:
The day finally discovers its mortality — it bleeds in crimson, from its wound to survive through its life, starting from its birth in dawn. What a life it must have been.
“Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.”
― Stephen King, The Running Man
The crimson hues are rare — the day itself must have had it tough and tumbled, fought hard, with sweet, tears, and of course, blood — with its shining crimson scars showing up in the eviscerating twilight. The day’s skin — the sky, is burnt in the sun’s heat. As much as the day is facing its mortality, it is not going to give up with a fight.
There is an emotional current, the poet calls it passion. The day exists because of the sun, yet the sun brings the day’s demise. Is it a love-hate relationship? We will leave it to the reader to figure out.
The day wearing its crimson-soaked skin, gobbles the sun, in an act of passionate frenzy or a final act of defiance.
Wait, the sun is too hot to handle. The day has gobbled (gulped) the sun somehow and now, not being able to bear the heat, blends with the blue of the sea. Then, all goes black (night falls).
Haiku can tell stories. The simple view of a colorful twilight — the moment of change — is so beautifully told as a story in three lines. The first line describes how the day has been, the second line how the day gulps the sun, and the third, how the day finally seems to blend with the blue waters over the horizon.
Brevity and economy merge with a soulful rendition of a tale.
Poem 5: Heal me, my friend
How hard to hug me
To smile rather than drown me
Remember I bleed ❤️I hear weary voice
Tired from an age-old journey
Rest my friend and sleep❤️Judge me not with breath
Bend to touch my throbbing head
A hand heals instead ❤️~Bev Sanbrooke
Commentary on Poem 5:
How a simple act can be so meaningful, as we saw in Poem 4? Good things often are small and unnoticed, hugging, resting, and touching — all that can take to heal, even if it is a battle-weary day. The context of this Haiku could be deemed as a conversation between two friends or a couple, of which one is returning after a long day or journey.
The first Haiku opens the dialogue, as a plea from the one who has returned to the one at home.
How hard to hug me
To smile rather than drown me
Remember I bleed ❤️
I have come home tired, weary, and scarred — remember the crimson sunset, my friend. I bleed, sweat, and toil, and my day is not easy. I need rest and love. Can you hug and smile at me, rather than drown me in woes?
“Hug while you can.”
― Jay Woodman
Hug and smile, while you can and when we are together, my friend. Otherwise, we will be saddled with the regret of missing the little acts of love.
I hear weary voice
Tired from an age-old journey
Rest my friend and sleep❤️
The second Haiku is a reply to the person who just returned. A sort of suggestion, too, perhaps. Your voice is weary, the words tumbling out of your mouth. You are tired, my friend. You just have reached home exhausted by the wear and tear of a long, ‘age-old journey’.
“The air seemed heavy, and the making of words, wearisome.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring Photo Guide
Such fatigue can’t further the conversation. All one needs is a quiet rest. Let the emotions, hugs, and tears flow tomorrow. Today, my friend, please rest and sleep.
Judge me not with breath
Bend to touch my throbbing head
A hand heals instead ❤️
The third haiku is an earnest plea from the worn traveler to the resident that he seek the healing touch.
While I know your words are sincere, my friend, I am tired and broken. That is why I sought the hugs and smiles in the first place, right? Please, don't judge me from my breath — I know it is stale, reflecting the state of my mind, body, and soul.
“This is what it means to be loved… when someone wants to touch you, to be tender…”
― Banana Yoshimoto, The Lake
Instead, be my healer. Touch my throbbing head, my friend. You will feel the pain, the angst, the wound, the pieces that make me. In a sense, heal me with your touch. All I want is a hug, smiles, and touch — a little bit of silent, tactile love.
The human soul needs love and solace through its weary travel through life. This conversational Haiku triplet brings out the beauty of love and healing.
High-Five Haikus
The human soul is always seeking solace — a peace in eternity. The seasons change and provide the answers so unique in time and character. The leaves from the trees dry and wither; yet they can make sense in a way that tests a poet’s efficacy and essence — words chosen carefully and strung together in three lines, yet making a deep impact in the reader’s mind.
Dry words, brittle leaves
Brittle leaves boil in teapot
Warm tea spreads solace
~Ashok Subramanian
The structure's economy constrains the poet from distilling their thinking, like how the scent of brittle, dried leaves boils and distills down the essence of these words to soul-soaking solace.
From classic Japanese to contemporary English Haiku, the journey of poets and poetry lovers is fascinating and unique.
I started to write haikus 2 years ago as part of a challenge set by Joanna Puckering, we were both new to the form. It’s now a weekly event. A fabulous mindfulness practice and a mental puzzle all combined. ~ Rachael Rodger
A wonderful journey indeed. We high-five Rachael Rodger and other poets in the exhilarating journey of Haikus.
More in Part 2.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2024
